Death on a Deadline by Christine Lynxwiler Read Free Book Online Page B

“I think once you’re outside the building, anything goes. Especially since there’s not a graveside service.”
    “In that case, how about lunch?” Alex’s smile included both Carly and me.
    But Carly’s stare focused on something in the distance. I followed her gaze. Zac. Getting into a car with his golf teacher.
    “Thanks, Alex,” Carly murmured, keeping her eye on the car. “Actually, I need to run an errand right now.” She motioned toward me. “Why don’t you two go eat?”
    “Another time,” I said, trying my best to mimic Mama’s natural grace for getting out of a sticky situation. “I’ll just go with you, Car. In case you need help with your errand .”
    Alex frowned. “Why do I feel like there’s a whole conversation going on that I’m not hearing?”
    So I’d failed miserably in my attempt at a graceful exit. “Carly’s got a lot on her mind.”
    Carly shook her head. “This is something I need to deal with on my own. Alex, will you drop Jenna off at home when y’all finish eating?”
    “I’d be happy to.”
    Carly’s heels click-clacked across the asphalt lot before I could frame a reply. From now on I was taking my own vehicle everywhere I went. Who’d known when my sister had offered to drive that she’d pawn me off —like a bag of old clothes for Goodwill—before the day was over? Still, short of chasing her down, I had little choice now. I was stuck going to eat with Alex.
    Poor me. I could think of worse situations to be stuck in. Maybe giving in with grace would be more my thing. I smiled. “The diner?” It had been our hangout for so many years, it was hard to imagine eating anywhere else with him.
    “I was going to suggest it if you hadn’t.” He guided me toward his vehicle a few yards away.
    I stopped. Even though he’d been driving a hand-me-down car from his dad when he’d left town, all these years I’d pictured him with a four-wheel drive truck. Not the kind with oversized wheels that loomed over everything else on the highway. Alex had never been showy like that. Just a rough-and-ready truck.
    Exactly like the one sitting in front of me right now.
    “You don’t like it?” He held the passenger door open for me.
    The last thing I wanted was for him to know that he’d even crossed my mind over the years, much less that I’d imagined what kind of vehicle he drove. “It’s fine.”
    When he slid in and buckled his seatbelt, I checked mine. Alex had always been famous for going from zero to sixty in seconds. “Do you still drive like you’re in NASCAR?”
    “I’ve mellowed some over the years.” He gave me a slow grin.
    Great. The only thing I could imagine more dangerous to my emotional equilibrium than Alex Campbell was a mellow Alex Campbell.
    When Alex and I walked into the Lake View Diner together, we automatically headed toward the booth nearest the jukebox. I slid in across from him, and for a second it was as if the hands on the big-faced clock over the counter were flying around backward, taking us back to a time when swimming practice and competitions had kept me busy. But every bit of free time I’d had, I’d spent with Alex, often in this very place. I had moved on and so had Alex, but some memories you never outgrow.
    We should have gone to McDonald’s.
    I scrambled for a safe topic, one not obviously stilted, yet several degrees this side of nostalgic. “How did Coach’s gall bladder surgery go? In the last card I got from them, your mom mentioned he was scheduled to have it done.”
    “It went fine. You keep in touch with Mom and Dad?” Alex sounded surprised.
    “Why not?” I loved Alex’s parents. After the Olympics, Coach must have been disappointed, especially when I decided to quit, but he hadn’t made me feel bad.
    “I thought—well I wasn’t sure how you felt about them after Dad practically deserted you when you didn’t win.” Alex picked up a menu and studied the selections with more concentration than they